ELENA
The door opens and the shy light from the doorway spills into the room, stirring me awake the next morning. I stay perfectly still, pretending like the noise and the light didn’t wake me up. The shuffle of Drake’s clothes and the clanking of his buckle inform me that he is gliding his clothes off him.
The bed sinks as he slides under the duvet, and that’s when the stench hits me. The smell of Rosa engulfs my entire frame and shoves its way down my throat. My heart clenches as anger begins to bubble. He didn’t even have the courtesy of washing her scent off him. I scoff silently.
I wait for the familiar pricks at the side of my ribs from his consistent neglect, but it doesn’t come. The anger doesn’t burn because he left me to go be with Rosa—I am already used to being second fiddle
